


Society Manners

by Rogue_Bard



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue_Bard/pseuds/Rogue_Bard
Summary: "All your friends are 100% down to help each other cover up a scandal. So far your friends-group has concealed 1 lesbian affair, 2 het affairs, smuggling, extortion, and 2 murders." (AKA the Mighty Nein Regency AU that started out a rom-com and then the outline Went Unexpected Places)
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Yeza Brenatto/Nott | Veth Brenatto/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	1. One (1) Lesbian Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Based on #6 in this tumblr post: https://dancing-thru-clouds.tumblr.com/post/620949328092168192/18th-century-manners
> 
> Chapter Summary: 1 lesbian affair: I mean is it really an affair if Yasha has her husband’s blessing?

Given all the ways things very easily could have turned out, Yasha knew that she was right to be very grateful for where life had landed her. After the massive scandal of being caught kissing Zuala in Lady Maroque’s garden at a party, both girls’ families had swung swiftly into action. Zuala’s parents sent her to stay with family in Tal’Dorai, and after a few months of fervent letters full first of passion, and then of regret, Yasha heard nothing. She did not know what had become of her first love, and had no one she could ask.

Her own parent’s response had been to organize Yasha’s immediate and very public engagement to a proper man of society, with an equally public marriage to follow as soon as was socially reasonable. Unfortunately, Yasha had been young enough that 'soon' was far further away than her parents would have liked. She had spent almost a year locked away in the Nydoorin country estate, seeing no one but her parents and the servants. If it weren’t for a sympathetic footman, she wouldn’t have even had those few letters from Zuala.

On the day of the wedding she finally met her betrothed. Professor Thaddeus Wellim was easily twice her age, and while he seemed to be perfectly fine as men went, Yasha had had quite a long time in solitude to think about what it was that she wanted, and he simply wasn’t it. Fortunately, despite all the fears she had had about the type of person who would be willing to bind themselves in marriage to someone they had never met, he wasn’t actually cruel.

The man was very thoroughly interested in the business connections her parents could supply him with, and how they would benefit his research. He was quick to explain this the very night of their wedding; that his interests were in his books and his research, and he had no interest in taking her, or anyone really, to his bed. He had flustered and blustered through this explanation, seeming worried that Yasha would judge him or expose his failures as a husband to the world. When she told him that she shared his lack of interest in the physical duties of their marriage he practically melted in relief.

They had lived as friends ever since, with Yasha managing the modest townhouse and small staff that came with it while Thaddeus went on his research trips. As long as she didn’t spend too much money or damage his numerous ancient texts, Thaddeus didn’t seem to much care what Yasha got up to while he was away, expecting her only to keep the roof from falling in, and provide a charming presence at all the various social functions that being a member of the University staff required they be available for. Her parents saw all of this as the marriage having tamed her unnatural, youthful urges. In reality, Yasha was simply enjoying being able to relax at long last, away from the constant pressure of her parents, and the worries over what she would have to force herself to do in order to please them. To occupy her time she took up gardening, and over the course of a few years became modestly known in their circles for her innovative crossbreeding and unique roses.

It was the roses that managed to get her into trouble again, though really it was uncharitable to blame it on the poor things. Yasha had had a theory about the tannins in wine barrels affecting the roses she was breeding, and to test this out she required wine barrels. Lionett Vineyards had been happy to supply her request and the delivery had been made by the oldest child of the family, who was apparently in trouble for some small slight, and so being made to do the work of a footman.

Yasha had never fallen so hard to quickly, not even with Zuala, and it was clear that Beauregard felt the same way. They danced around it on that first visit, both used to the ways of society, and how survival depended on being so very careful and hiding their interests. After that first meeting Yasha had come up with a dozen small, silly reasons she needed further items from the winery, and Beauregard had managed to be the one delivering them each time, long after she had worked her way back into her father's good graces. Still, for months nothing went further than conversation, and even that was kept perfectly respectable, at least to any listening ears. It was amazing what one could communicate with carefully chosen, double-meaning words and the raise of a brow.

Before long they were both very sure that their interests were returned, but neither of them felt comfortable taking any further steps on the matter. Beauregard was a couple of years younger than she was, and though Yasha had observed in the way Beauregard interacted with others that she flirted as naturally as breathing, her father had never permitted anyone to court her. This was just as well, though he didn’t know that. Yasha had had only the one foray into flirtation prior to her marriage, and that had ended so terribly that she was hesitant to try again.

In the end, it was Thaddeus who gave them the courage to take the next step. He had been so kind and understanding; another reason for Yasha’s hesitancy to start something was that she couldn’t bear the thought of making their marriage a point of gossip. But as it turned out, when you had lived as long as he had, and traveled all around the world, things like your platonic spouse taking a lover felt immaterial. Because Beauregard was meant to be learning about everything that might affect a vineyard, he arranged for her to come to the house once a week and be instructed by Yasha about the particularities of soil composition and planting. When he announced this to his young wife, she had stared at him, gaping. The older man simply laughed, kissed her genially on the cheek, and told her to be happy.

And happy they were. Beau (as she had told Yasha to call her once they had truly decided to dispense with formalities) did not have the same worries that Yasha did. Her parents had not bothered to arrange a marriage for her at all, instead grooming her to handle all the more menial parts of the business, which her younger brother would be given the task of actually running. Rather than being bitter about her lifetime assignment as a glorified secretary, Beau took great pleasure in the freedom it granted her. She learned all she could about an astounding number of things, because as long as she could justify it in some way as ‘helping TJ with the business’, she was allowed education in anything, to a level that was highly unusual for a young woman.

She also loved her little brother dearly, which likely assuaged any bitterness that might have grown, and certainly endeared her to Yasha. While the attraction had been instant, for the first few times they spoke Beau would only smirk or wink flirtatiously when Yasha asked anything remotely personal. It was not until her third visit, when she came to the door with her hair caught up in a messy series of braids, that Yasha saw her truly smile.

‘Yeah, I know it’s ridiculous, I was letting TJ play with it and we lost track of time,’ she had said, when Yasha had raised an eyebrow at the unkempt nature of the other woman’s hair. Beau followed this statement with a shrug and looked down, her lips forming a soft, sweet, indulgent smile. It had faded abruptly as her eyes had cut back to Yasha, clearly expecting to be made fun of.

Instead Yasha had smiled back, trying to match that softness of moments before, and saying simply ‘He’s lucky to have you, I think,” before switching the conversation to the order of dinner wines that Beau was there to deliver.

Beau was just a few seconds too slow to cover her astonishment that someone would speak kindly of her indulgence of her brother. This was not the first time that Beau had acted in a way that made Yasha think she was far too used to hearing criticism, and quite unpracticed in hearing praise. It made Yasha want to find everyone who had ever spoken a harsh word to Beau and beat them to a pulp. It was this spark of feeling that caused Yasha to realize that this was more than a passing infatuation, and that she was truly in trouble.

Since they had received the blessing (and not at all subtle nudging) of Professor Thaddeus, things had settled nicely. The pair of them were happy, which was more than Yasha had thought she would ever have. It also seemed to be outside the realm of Beau’s expectations for herself, and that bothered Yasha more than she could express. Instead of pestering the other woman about it, she made it her mission for Beau to know just how loved she was, and that she was allowed to be happy.

As part of this little mission, Yasha introduced Beau to her friends, and Beau responded to the invitation into her life by doing the same. They all actually managed to get along and form quite an eclectic little band. It surprised Yasha at first, given how different they all were, but it delighted her all the same, especially given the loneliness she had felt prior to being married. Having so many good friends now was a true gift. And they all worked together very well, when put to a task. Which came in very handy when Lady Maroque, still a horrendous busybody, decided to start sniffing around Yasha again.

The social season was turning, crisp autumn leaves bringing with them cold breezes that drove folk back indoors, when they had the option. Yasha was obliged to attend parties whether or not her husband was away traveling, because what other purpose could there be for an older man’s beautiful young wife, but to be shown off as though she were a rare flower? Rare perhaps, but not delicate; Yasha never had been. Though she wore shoes with no heel at all she was still close to six feet, towering over all the other women, and even some of the men. For years she’d tried to compensate with light pastels and small, delicate prints, the better to hide herself and not appear something that needed remarking upon.

When she had come to live with Thaddeus though, the first dress that he bought for her had been a beautiful deep dove grey with teal accents. The first person who dared to comment, when they were out to the theater with her on his arm, had been given quite an earful.

‘If I wanted a wife smaller than myself, I’d have end up with an infant’ Thaddeus had said, jovially but with an edge to his tone. And it was true, the man barely topped five feet. Still, once he’d made it known that he preferred to dress his wife ‘as the tower of alabaster splendor that she is’, no one dared to comment, at least not where either of them could hear, and it became the expected thing for Yasha to attend social functions and converse about gardening while looking like a striking, jewel-toned column.

More recently though Yasha had become far more interested both in her appearance, and in making sure she attended whatever social gathering were available, rather than attending the bare minimum that she was obligated to. She and Beau could not dance together, could not even speak most times unless it was in a group, but then with so many friends around, that hardly felt like a sacrifice. They could simply be themselves, be together, and be happy. Or so Yasha had thought.

Yasha, Veth, and Caduceus were hanging to the side of the room, discussing frost protections for the flowers outside the window, when Lady Maroque and a couple of her friends drifted over to a nearby punch bowl.

“Such a shocking thing” Lady Maroque said in an unctuous tone. “Married barely a handful of years, and already dallying about.” Her companions gave soft gasps of clearly staged surprise, and one of them darted her eyes over to Yasha in a way she seemed to feel was subtle. Yasha stiffened. With everything that Thaddeus had done to help salvage her reputation and make her happy, she couldn’t let him be spoken of like this, couldn’t let his own reputation become one of a dimwitted cuckold, too blind to see what his wife was up to, or else to powerless to manage her. Frantically she tried to think of something to say, something clever and worthwhile that would still come across as humble and demure, but her mind was blank.

Instead, she simply stood and watched as Caduceus strode over to the punch bowl, in that relaxed, confident way of his, acting as though he’d meant to do so all along. He smiled politely at the ladies and offered to refill their glasses before his own. They all graciously accepted, and the first two cups were filled without issue. When he came to Lady Maroque, however, someone brushed quickly past him from behind, jostling his arm and causing him to pour the berry-pink punch over the skirt of her dress.

As Caduceus immediately began murmuring apologies, Yasha looked to see who had caused the mess, and was surprised to find Caleb, the newest in their circle of friends, disappearing into the crowd. She turned to ask Veth, who knew Caleb better, why he might have done that, only to find her friend was gone. Absent a better option, Yasha went over to attempt to help, but Lady Maroque was already waving off all offers of assistance, removing herself to the ladies’ lounge to see to her dress. Against her better judgement, Yasha followed. Maybe when the woman was alone, she would be easier to talk to. Yet when they reached the lounge there were several groups of women already inside, so Yasha stepped back into an alcove, gathering her thoughts and waiting for an opportune moment.

It had barely been a minute when a familiar voice rang through the lounge, in conversation but clearly not trying to remain quiet.

“I just think it’s so sweet, Beau!” Jester gushed in a way that would have felt insincere from anyone else, but fit the excitable young woman like a glove. “I mean I know it’s not exactly the done thing, for the lady to do that much of the courting, but it really must make Caddy feel so special, you know? And you’re so lucky Yasha was willing to give you all those extra lessons about gardening once you were done learning about the vineyard stuff, so you would have more in common with him! What a great surprise!”

What? Jester sounded so sure of herself, but that made no sense. She was Beau’s best friend, she knew full well the true nature of her and Yasha’s relationship. So why-

“Well geez, Jess, it’s not a surprise if you go blabbing about it at parties!” Beau managed to put a tone of pleased embarrassment in her voice. It was how she sounded whenever Yasha complimented her, and just hearing that pitch to her voice made Yasha smile a bit. “I just- he’s so nice, I wanted him to feel special, you know?” Even from her place in the alcove Yasha could see the other ladies in the lounge listening in to this conversation with interest, particularly Lady Maroque. Jester made a big show of noticing how loudly they had been speaking, and they lowered their voices and exchanged a few words more before Jester made a final adjustment of her hair in the mirror. They then linked arms, laughing lightly, and left.

At once the chatter in the room increased, with fans delicately pointing after the girls’ exit. Yasha saw one of the women approach Lady Maroque, and caught the words ‘But I thought you said’ before they got too close to require raised tones. Yasha leaned back against the alcove wall with a sigh of relief. This would be all the gossip for weeks, now. Plenty of time for her and Beau to increase their subtlety, so that by the time it was spread around that Beau was no longer ‘courting’, there would be no danger.

Yasha knew that several of her friends were far more adept at pranks (some might even say cons) than she was, but she had never had a chance to fully appreciate it until now. Clearly, she had the best friends in all of Niccodranas.


	2. 2 het affairs pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean is it really an affair if Veth and Yeza both want to bang Caleb?

Veth would not consider herself greedy, not really. She wanted all the best things for herself, her husband, and their little boy, but wasn’t that all just part of being a wife and mother? She had been a bit odd as a child, prickly and quick to launch into fights when her brothers would pick on her, and happy to dwell on her small obsessions, like her button collection. When her parents had procured marriages for her brothers, thus obtaining all the help they needed in the family’s upper crust haberdashery, they began looking for a way to get Veth and her oddness out of their way.

Perhaps that was an uncharitable was to look at it, but just as Veth would not say she was greedy, she also wouldn’t say she was particularly charitable. Practical, up front, and unwilling to deal with anyone’s bullshit, that was Veth Smythe. On the day things changed for her she had already dealt with quite a bit of bullshit, and was just eyeing the clock, looking forward to the time she could close up for the day and stop minding the front counter. It was five minutes to five, so very close she could almost taste it- then the door opened, bringing a peal from the bell hung over it.

With a small sigh, Veth pasted her best customer facing smile on before looking up.

“And how may I help you today si- Oh, Yeza! Hello!” The smile faded to a much more genuine one. Yeza had been coming into the shop since he was a child, following in his parents’ shadow. He was quiet, but also wickedly smart if you listened for it, as well as being truly kind. Also, and this was perhaps most important to Veth, he always let her decorate his hats. He trusted her sense of style, and she in turn helped him to look serious and respectable while not completely being boring.

Today he seemed a bit more flustered than usual, but perhaps that was to be expected. It was exam season at the university after all, and it seemed like the classes he told her about only got more and more complex as the years wore on.

“Oh, um, hello Veth,” Yeza said, his gaze flicking around the shop looking from hats to cravats and back again, but never at her. “I wanted to talk to you- well, that is, I suppose I wanted to talk to your father, but- No, that’s not right. I want to talk to you.” Finally, finally he looked at her, and with a fierceness in his eyes that Veth had never seen before. “I passed my final boards today. I’ve been taken on as a research chemist at the Royal Academy.”

Veth lit up, “Yeza that’s wonderful! I’m so pleased for you!” She went around the counter to give him a hug, but he stepped back, that fierce look still on his face. Now Veth was confused. Yes, hugging him was not strictly proper, but when had she ever been? He had never had a problem with it before.

“Yeza… Is something- have I done something to offend you?” Veth asked, and then went silent, waiting for his response. It must be that. She offended everyone eventually, it was just how she was. She had hoped that things with Yeza were different, that they would stay friends as they had for so many years, but it seemed she was wrong.

“Offend? Oh Veth, no, of course not.” The hard look fell from Yeza’s face, and he stepped forward to lay a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, I’m doing this all wrong, I-” he stopped, closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then opened them to meet Veth’s gaze once more. “It’s a five-year research grant, with a good chance of renewal, so long as I’m making progress. It means I finally have some guarantee in life.” He reached down and took both her hands in his. “It means that I can finally ask you to marry me.”

Veth stood there, blinking in shock. “What? But why-” she cut herself off, not wanting to ask, not wanting to risk spoiling this by making Yeza come to his senses. But as ever, he knew her too well, knew all the things she was afraid to say outside of her heart.

“Why would I want you? That _is_ what you were going to ask, wasn’t it?” he waited a moment, and when Veth nodded he continued. “Why would I want a wife who challenges me, who makes me want to do better every day? Why would I want a wife who is smart enough to keep up with me when I’m working late nights, and beautiful enough that I’d rather come home to her instead?” Yeza smiled softly, “Veth, I’ve wanted to ask you for years. I just wanted to make sure you had a good reason to say yes.”

Now it was Veth’s turn to smile. “Idiot. You’ve always been good enough to say yes to.” She pulled him in to a hug, then turned to the shop door, flipping the sign to ‘Closed’ and turning the lock. She linked arms with Yeza, tugging him towards the back. “Let’s go talk to my father.”

* * *

Five years into their marriage, there were still days when Yeza could not believe his good fortune. A beautiful wife, a job he loved, and a little boy growing smarter by the day. Yeza was so proud of Luc. Three years old, and already Yeza was sure that one day his son would outshine him. But of course, how could Luc be anything but brilliant, when he spent most of his time trailing after Veth?

Once they had been married, Veth had spent approximately two months managing their small apartment and his social calendar of Academy engagements before she proclaimed it to be too dull, and took to following Yeza to his laboratory and assisting him. After a brief amount of training she became incredibly helpful, and it was such a pleasure to spend their days together.

When Luc had been born she had cut back on her time in the lab at first, but by then the excitement of discovery had infected her, and as soon as she felt it was safe she returned, Luc strapped to her back, cooing at both his parents as they mixed and measured, and being carefully tucked away whenever there was danger of an explosion.

In the end it was not motherhood, but their successes, that made Veth’s visits to the lab less frequent. They had discovered a new atomic element, and if the reception in the scientific community was marvelous, the response from those in the city was staggering. Suddenly it was as though they could not trip without being invited to a party. Not just by members of the Academy staff, but by actual members of the aristocracy. Even with the friendships Veth had been cultivating at the other engagements they had attended these past years, good friends who were happy to support them, it was still a lot to wrangle, and doing so took up more and more of Veth’s time.

It was at one if these fancy aristocracy parties that the couple first met Caleb Widogast. He had come to do work at the Academy on an exchange from the University of Rexxentrum. Several other researchers had also come, and they seemed to stick together fairly close to one another. Caleb, however, did not appear to socialize with them, or with anyone, really. He attended all the functions that Academy held, as would have been required of him, but he simply stuck to the walls, saying little.

Yeza noticed him first, the shock of red hair uncommon enough to cause a remark. The associate dean that he and Veth had been speaking to looked over at the man and grimaced slightly, before explaining that he was part of an exchange group, and not offering anything further. It was clear there was something more to say, however, so later that evening, when the dean had had far more liquor, Veth asked again. Apparently, the young man was the protégé of one of Rexxentrum’s preeminent scientists; Trent Ikithon.

Dr Ikithon was well known enough that Yeza had heard the name, and was even passingly familiar with his work. The reason behind the dean’s dislike of him, so extensive that he would hold it against the man’s student, was unclear. But then this was academia, and professional jealousies tended to run deep. It was unfortunate, because the associate dean was an influential man, and many of the staffers seemed hesitant to befriend someone who clearly had the man’s disapproval. But then if Yeza cared about that sort of thing, he never would have married a haberdasher’s daughter.

After a few parties worth of small talk to bring Caleb out of his shell, Yeza found himself delighted with the new friendship. Caleb was shy, but once you got past that, he was wickedly intelligent, and quick enough to keep up even with Ms. Lionette, which was no easy feat. Their whole odd little group seemed to decide that a bit of quiet, dry wit was exactly what they needed. As time wore on, the young man was invited to dinners in various combinations and permutations with the group, and Yeza was pleased to see that he was smiling more often.

And perhaps it was how pleasant he looked when he smiled that led Yeza to approach Veth with an idea.

* * *

Caleb sat on the floor of the Brenatto’s family parlor, rolling a ball back and forth with Luc, the two of them enjoying the warm fireplace. Evenings like this had become a common occurrence over the past several months, though they had not been something Caleb had ever expected when he had been sent on this exchange. Professor Ikithon wanted him to see more of the world, to increase his political acumen. Caleb had been quick to say that he did not really have any, but that response had not gone over well, and so here he was.

He had tried to do well with politics at first, watching the comings and goings of folk at the ridiculous excess of parties he was required to attend, but it was all for nothing. He was not able to gather a single bit of information that would be useful to the professor. By this point Caleb had honestly stopped trying. Now that he had friends to talk to, the parties were not such a trial, and he occasionally even found himself enjoying them. Still, he would never enjoy them as much as quiet evenings like this, spent with smaller groups of closer friends.

Dinner had been simple but flavorful and filling, and Veth had nudged him into looking after Luc while she and Yeza cleaned up, ignoring his offer of washing the dishes as he usually did. Caleb smiled softly at Luc. The boy was growing up surrounded by so much love, from both family and friends. It reminded Caleb of his childhood with his own parents, tucked away safe in their small village. But perhaps that was a train of thought best left alone.

“Alright. Bedtime for little monkey boys,” Veth said, coming from the kitchen and scooping Luc up, flipping him around as he giggled and climbed up her arms. “Say goodnight to Mister Caleb.”

“G’night mis’r Cay-eeb” Luc said obediently, ducking his head to smack a kiss against Caleb’s cheek.

After another kiss for his father, Veth took Luc up to the bedrooms, and Yeza settled on the sofa, a steaming mug in his hand. Caleb meant to ask if there was more tea, but found himself too relaxed to leave his place in front of the fire just yet. He closed his eyes and leaned against the couch, basking in the warm glow. A few moments later, he felt a hand begin to card lightly through his hair, and without thinking much about it Caleb leaned into the touch, the nicest thing he had felt in quite some time. Then reality caught up with him, and he stiffened, sitting upright.

“I’m sorry, that was-” he stuttered, wincing at how thick his accent sounded, but at the same time Yeza was speaking, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to-” They both stopped, looking at each other warily. They stayed like that, both very still, and that was how Veth found them several minutes later. She took in the sight before her from the doorway, before sighing and turning to Yeza, hands on her hips.

“I thought you were going to wait for me before starting this conversation?” she said, sounding slightly annoyed. Caleb’s brows drew in confusion. Yeza looked slightly abashed, but not near so caught out as one would expect from a man whose wife had found him doing… whatever it was they had been doing. Which was nothing, really, so that meant there was nothing to-

“Caleb? You alright?” When had Veth come across the room, kneeling beside his place on the floor?

“I am fine, of course,” he said quickly. “Clearly I have overstayed my welcome, I should be-”

“No, Caleb. It’s not that, I promise. Please, stay a minute?” Yeza asked, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward earnestly. Veth gripped one of his hands, and after a moment’s hesitation, reached over to take one of Caleb’s as well.

“Please stay?” she asked, and her normally sarcasm laced voice was so earnest that Caleb found he could not deny her. And more, on a bit of introspection, he found he did not really want to. Slowly he settled back onto the floor, looking between the pair of them expectantly.

Yeza took a deep breath. “This isn’t how we had meant to bring this up, I swear. But we’ve been talking about it for a while, the two of us, and- We wanted to ask how you would feel about joining us?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, but he remained silent, not wanting to tempt fate by misunderstanding and responding too soon. He looked searchingly at Yeza, hoping the man would offer more information.

At last Veth broke the gathering silence, words tumbling out of her. “Yes, he means it how you think, and no, this isn’t because either of us is unhappy. We would never bring you into the middle of that if we were, it’s not what friends do. But we think we could be happier, and that we could make you happy. If you’re interested?”

Caleb looked back and forth between the pair of them. His first thought had been that they had finally decided the price they wished for all the hospitality and friendship they had granted him, but he immediately discarded that. Things weren’t like that here, this wasn’t Rexxentrum. Moreover, Veth and Yeza weren’t like that, Caleb knew it in his bones. And he thought that Veth was right, that they could make each other quite happy, far happier than Caleb felt he deserved. The idea of more evenings like this, of being allowed to enjoy it as Yeza stroked his hair (and perhaps, a daring part of his mind suggested, stroked other things), was very pleasant indeed. Unfortunately, happiness was not the only concern here.

“Interested? I would be a fool not to be, and I pride myself in not being a fool. But I fear it is unwise, unfair to both of you. What would people say? You know how this city is, things would get out.” Caleb bit his lip, looking down. He had not realized how much he wanted this until it was actually offered. He had had more than one idle fantasy about Veth, about Yeza, even about both of them when he felt particularly daring. But he had never expected them to be more than idle fantasies, and now that they could come true he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Let them try.” Yeza said firmly. “I’m perfectly capable of being extremely offended that anyone would make suggestions that my wife would stray.”

“And he wouldn’t even by lying,” Veth put in. “It’s hardly straying if we are both here with you, is it?” She stretched and got to her feet before reaching a hand down and helping Caleb to his feet. Once he was standing steadily, she rose to her toes and kissed him softly. When she pulled away Caleb found Yeza had risen as well, and was observing the pair of them hungrily. It had been so long since Caleb had wanted, and been wanted in return. Throwing caution to the wind, he reached out and brought Yeza in for a kiss.

When they parted, Veth took their hands and tugged them back down onto the sofa, a wide grin on her face. The night, it seemed, was just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all that, and they never even technically got discovered. I just have fun making them be cute. But assume something similar to Yasha and Beau happened, and Yeza got to have fun being highly offended that anyone would dare imply such a thing about his wife.


	3. 2 het affairs pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean is it really an affair if Fjord is being coerced into a relationship with Avantika?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: While there is nothing explicit, this chapter deals with someone being coerced into a long term physical relationship. That's rape, friends. It is a theme throughout the chapter, so it's not really a 1 scene you can skip type of deal, if that's not something you are comfortable reading please take care of yourself.
> 
> This is the point where the story got much darker than I'd initially planned. It also took me a million years to write. Enjoy!

Fjord had never been anything to anybody. Just another boy from the orphanage, and not enough to be anything special. Not uncommonly smart, not uncommonly strong, not uncommonly good with people. If there was one thing Fjord was, it was common. And perhaps that was why it was so easy for him to be drawn in, when Avantika had suggested he could find a way to be special, after all.

It had all been so simple at first. Running messages and packages for Master Uk’otoa made a nice way to pick up some spare coin, over and above what he earned working on the docks unloading cargo for Captain Vandran. Plenty of the men had another source of income, there was nothing odd about it. Or there would not have been, if it had not been for the fact that Master Uk’otoa, like so many of the fancy folk up the hill, had his finger in all sorts of pies. One of those pies happened to be shipping, and he happened to be a rival of Captain Vandran’s. Fjord had not known, would never have started working for him if he had. And when he found out, he realized later, it should have been simple. He should have just stopped, explained his mistake to the captain, and pledged to have more care in the future. It should have been simple.

And perhaps it would have been if Fjord had realized his mistake on his own. Instead, it was another of Uk’otoa’s runners who brought it to his attention, an ambitious woman named Avantika. And when she brought it to his attention, she was not informing him of a mistake, she was congratulating him. How clever he was, finding a place for himself in both organizations. How smart he must be to have planned this out, to be able to play both sides against each other when competition for contracts arose. No one had ever called Fjord smart or clever in his life. He was flattered, and he was taken in entirely.

When she asked to join in the charade, like it was something she needed his permission for, Fjord felt like a leader. He felt powerful, and that feeling was intoxicating. So he had done as she asked, introduced him to Vandran, gotten her a job with the crew as well. It was all going well; they were both making more money then they ever had in their lives. And when their successes brought them to Uk’otoa’s attention, when the pair of them were invited to a gathering at his estate, it felt even more flattering. How many crew bosses took the time to notice their underlings, to reward them for service in such a manner?

At that first party, Uk’otoa had introduced them to a few of his business partners, spoken of how he aimed to teach them, to increase their business acumen. And perhaps it rankled Fjord a bit, to be spoken of as though he was a project. But then, of course he would need work to be up to standard. Fjord had never been enough, and these people needed more than he had ever done before. Of course there was more he needed to do, to be, and really he should count himself fortunate that Uk’otoa was willing to put the work in, instead of dismissing him out of hand as everyone else had. _Everyone but Vandran_ , Fjord would realize later.

Vandran also saw something in Fjord, had also spoke of grooming him for more. But Vandran was a firm believer that you needed a good base of knowledge, and had to work your way up. Whenever Fjord asked him when it would be time for Fjord to take on more responsibilities, he just told the younger man to wait, to be patient, that the time would come. Fjord was rapidly tiring of patience.

When things began to spin out of control, it happened to subtly that Fjord did not notice, until suddenly he seemed to be in the middle of a maelstrom. Vandran’s crew was finding fewer and fewer jobs, and had lost out on several large contracts. Most of these went to Uk’otoa’s trading company, so Fjord ended up working on them anyway, so what did it matter this dock he was working from? The money was coming in all the same.

He commented on this one night, walking down with Avantika from another of Uk’otoa’s parties in the upper city, and she just laughed. It was not a nice laugh either, it felt cold and vicious.

“Yes, of course we’ve been getting the contracts. Who do you think’s been telling Uk’otoa about them as soon as Vandran gets wind?” Avantika asked, as though she was talking to a simpleton. Plenty of folk had spoken to Fjord like that in his life, and he hated it every time.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Fjord asked, the fine scotch from the evening bringing a slight slur to his voice and a sluggishness to his thoughts.

“Vandran’s been in the business for ages, people come to him with their contracts. But if Uk’otoa knows, if he can underbid him… and pockets like that, he can afford to underbid for a while.” She replied.

“But you can’t keep underbidding forever, you’ll lose too much money that way.” Fjord protested.

“Not forever. Just long enough that Vandran goes out of business. Once the competition is clear Uk’otoa will be able to raise prices again.” Avantika pointed out.

Fjord was agape. Shut down his business? Vandran? He had been an institution on the docks since Fjord was a child. Why- But of course. He was an institution, the company everyone in trade thought of first, and that made him a threat to any new company starting up. Most dealt with this by finding niches and sticking to them, but it appeared the Uk’otoa had taken a different approach. A far more sinister one, and Fjord had been blind to it.

His horrified realization must have played out on his face, because Avantika took his arm, halting him.

“Hey, genius, this is a great thing! He’ll fold in another month or two, and we’ll have the credit! Uk’otoa will be sure to move us up the ladder then. It’ll be our first big success. Together.” She leaned up then, and kissed him on the mouth. Fjord froze for a moment, before pulling back.

“What- you- Vandran’s been a great captain, why would you want to do this?” Fjord asked, pushing his mind past the kiss and instead trying to understand.

Avantika’s face hardened. “Vandran is _in the way_. You must see that. Things will be so much better with him gone.”

“No!” Fjord said, “He won’t be gone. I’ll tell him, and once he knows what’s happening he’ll be able to put a stop it to.”

“Tell him? Tell him what? That you’ve been selling him out for over a year now, wineing and dining with the competition while his purse gets lighter and lighter? And just how well do you think he’ll take that, Fjord? About as well as Uk’otoa would take a traitor, I imagine.” Avantika’s tone turned thoughtful. “Maybe I should tell him. Maybe I should tell them both. See how long it takes them to fight over who gets to dump your corpse in the harbor.”

“What? Avantika, no, I” Fjord was at a loss, his head still muddled by alcohol. But she had always been smarter than him, hadn’t she? And she was right, nothing good ever happened to traitors. Fjord had just never had to consider such a fate for himself before.

“Or maybe. Maybe, you should think less about your drunken conscience, and more about keeping me happy, hmm?” Avantika asked, the playful lilt back in her voice.

Fjord looked at her, but there was no sign that she was joking.

“And what is it that would make you happy?” he asked, fighting past the growing knot of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Avantika leaned up again and kissed him, harder, filthier, and she kept at it until Fjord began kissing her back. When at last she was satisfied, she pulled away, grinning like a shark.

“I’m sure you’ll make me all kinds of happy, Fjord,” she said, patting his cheek before continuing off into the night, leaving Fjord to trail behind her.

* * *

Almost a year had passed since that fateful night, and it was clear that, as per usual, Avantika was right about everything. Vandran’s company had gone under within three months. The captain had actually apologized to Fjord, saying how he wished he had had the time to do better by him, but clearly the old man had lost his touch for business. It was all Fjord could do to keep silent as the captain shook his hand, parted ways with the crew, and headed off into a quiet retirement.

Uk’otoa had indeed credited Fjord and Avantika with his climb to the top of the shipping industry, telling them he planned to leave it in their capable hands as he moved on to other projects, but only if they could agree who would be primarily in charge. And of course Fjord ceded control to Avantika, allowing her charge of everything, stepping back to play the loyal second in command.

This was his life now; being where Avantika told him and doing what she wanted. Both in the shipping business, and in their bed. He had hoped that she would tire of him, but she had not seemed to yet. And really, it was not something he should complain about. She was a beautiful woman, and she wanted him. There were far worse things in the world than working under (being under) Avantika. As she was all too happy to remind him, whenever he worked up the courage to question her.

The social functions that Uk’otoa bade them come to, now that they were respectable merchants, had become the highlight of Fjord’s life. Avantika found herself too busy with her various undertakings, and too impatient to be politic with other merchants or with noble clients. This, she said, Fjord was perfect for, and should manage himself.

It was at one of these gatherings that, quite by accident, he met Beauregard Lionette and Jester Lavorre.

The party had been the sort where politicking happened after dinner, over drinks, which meant that first one had to get through dinner, and before that, dancing. Which was all well and good for most of this crowd, who had grown up with fancy tutors who actually taught them this sort of thing. Fjord had had nothing of the sort, and after an attempt or two had discovered it was difficult to fake knowing what you were doing when it came to formal dance. Not only that, but because the men had to ask the ladies to dance, it meant he was considered rude if he just stood by the wall. For these reasons, he had come to dread dancing events.

He had thought this evening would prove to be no exception, when a dark haired woman with light brown skin approached him, took his hand, and led him out on to the dance floor in a manner that made it look as though they were walking side by side. It all happened so suddenly that Fjord didn’t have the time to even think of finding a polite way to brush her off, and now here they were, and the music was starting. With a sigh, Fjord placed his hand on the woman’s waist and went to step forward- and found that it went smoothly. As the song wore on, things continued to go smoothly, and after a minute Fjord realized that somehow, despite looking for all the world as though she was dancing the follow part, the woman was leading.

“Look, don’t worry about it,” she said, as he struggled to find a way to broach just what the hell was going on without being impolite. “I have to dance with people, and you looked fucking miserable, I saw you try dancing at the Balrion’s fete last month, it wasn’t pretty.”

“I was doing my best!” Fjord protested, missing a step as he tried speaking and dancing at the same time. Beauregard smirked.

“Yes, we can tell. That’s why I thought you needed some help, dude.” She was insulting him, but somehow, she was so matter of fact about it that it did not come across as particularly unkind. Though the past year had made him far less confident in himself, there had been a time when Fjord considered himself a good judge of character. And Beauregard, he judged, while definitely odd, was a good person. Fjord decided that he liked her.

They danced together for another two songs, before Beauregard pulled him off the dance floor to meet her friends Jester and Yasha. Jester, Fjord was aware of in passing. Her mother was a famous singer, and also a very expensive entertainer of the personal nature, though that part of her work was rarely discussed in polite company. The Ruby of the Sea had a reputation for charm and political acumen, and the former at least, Jester had in spades. Fjord was quite sure it would be impossible to dislike the young woman. Yasha was a quiet giant of a woman, with a wicked sense of humor if you were willing to listen for it.

The evening that passed was the most enjoyable Fjord had spent in ages, and proved good enough incentive to seek out the lady’s company in the future. Over the next few months, he spent several more parties with them and was introduced to several others they kept company with; a pair of chemists and a botanist. It took some time for him to realize; indeed, it was not until he was talking to the newest member of the little group, Caleb, that it really clicked for him. Fjord was asking the other man about life in Rexxentrum when Veth came over, nodding in the direction of a punch bowl that they could see Caduceus heading towards and telling Caleb that Cad needed help splashing punch on one of the women there. Without question, Caleb set off in that direction, leaving Veth standing with Fjord.

In that moment Fjord realized. This was how things had felt years ago, with Vandran’s crew. This was what having friends felt like. A wistful look crossed his face, and of course Veth noticed.

“Something bothering you?” she asked.

“Nah. Just- remembering, I guess,” he replied. Veth stayed silent, looking over the crowd, waiting for him to continue, and after a few moments, he obliged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had people who would do something for me without question.”

Veth cocked her head, considering. “But isn’t that what you do? Manage dealings for your lady, even if you don’t always understand the importance? Surely she shows you the same consideration, given that you are the one out here, seeing the true lay of the land?”

Fjord winced slightly “Don’t call her that. I- It doesn’t matter, I just thought it was nice, that’s all.” He cast his gaze about the room, desperate for a change of subject. While he was still searching, Caleb rejoined them, and after looking briefly at Veth, resumed their abandoned conversation about Rexxentrum.

That, Fjord had thought, would be the end of it. So it came as a surprise when, a week later, when he sat in a pub enjoying an evening’s drink with Veth, Yeza, and Beauregard, Veth brought up the topic again.

“Why don’t you like it, when I call her your lady?” Veth said, looking at Fjord and giving him time to parse the nonsequitor. Once he had, once he realized the full meaning of her question, Fjord paused. Just as it had been a long time since he had friends, it had been so very long since he had felt like anyone deserved to hear the truth from him, so long since he thought anyone would care to listen. But these people, they _were_ his friends. They cared. And so it was worth it for them to hear the truth.

“Yeza calls you that sometimes. Not as a dig, but as a bit of a jest. ‘As my lady wishes’, and that sort of thing. He says it because he loves you.” Once Fjord started, he realized that it was going to be harder to explain than he thought, but he could not bring himself to stop speaking. “It’s a joke, and you have those with each other, because you speak as equals. You know that he’s not going to take it the wrong way and hold it against you later. You have-” And suddenly as Fjord looked up from where his gaze had been planted on the table, he saw how the others were looking at him, and it gave him pause. They looked- Fjord was not exactly sure how they looked, because he had never seen this on their faces before. Once he stopped speaking there was a moment’s weighted silence, before Veth gave a firm shake of her head.

“Alright, I won’t call her that, then,” she said, for turning to Beau and launching into a story about Luc getting into the flour and covering her kitchen with paste. It was easy, to slip out of the state being asked about Avantika put him in, the way it made him feel. It was easy to sit here and laugh with his friends, imagining Veth covered in flour. Fjord let the conversation take him, and avoided thinking about anything else.

An hour later Yeza looked at his watch and announced that he and Veth should really be going, to help Caleb put Luc to bed. They said their goodbyes, but Beauregard showed no sign of leaving so Fjord stayed as well. They sat in a companionable silence with their drinks before Beau broke it with a question.

“But you are fucking, right? I’m not misunderstanding that?” From anyone else it would have come off as insulting, but Beau was always so matter of fact with her questions that it did not, and that Fjord was not even tempted to pretend he didn’t understand.

“Yeah, we are. What about it?” This seemed an odd direction for the conversation to be taking.

“Because what you said, about not being able to speak as equals- why would you date someone like that, man? No offense, but you’re clearly not the one lording shit over her.” Again, she was so genuine that Fjord could not be bothered to obfuscate. Really, Beau could be so ridiculously young, sometimes.

“It’s not dating, Beau, it’s maintaining the peace in a business arrangement.” Fjord said wryly, and now Beau looked at him sharply.

“But you want to be fucking? You’re into it?” And why was it that after so many years of lying Fjord was suddenly finding it difficult. Clearly the silence lasted too long for Beau’s liking, because she asked again, “If you said ‘no’, what would happen?”

Abruptly Fjord stood. This was not a conversation he was going to be having. Who did Beau think she was, you couldn’t ask people things like that. As he gathered his things Beau stood as well, putting a hand on his arm.

“What would happen, Fjord?” she asked softly, her tone undercutting the steel in her eyes.

Fjord shook his head, pulling his arm from her grasp. “I was a sailor before all of this, Beau. I’ll always be a sailor in some ways, I’m sure. Like how I know that if you want to get safely to shore, you don’t go rocking the boat.” And without a backward glance, he turned and left the tavern.

* * *

He avoided them all for a good while after that. Several weeks of dull parties with no one to talk to. It was Jester who finally broke the tension, sidling up to him at a ball and saying that he didn’t get to be mad at her just because he and Beau were fighting, it was super rude how he’d been acting, so really, he should dance with her as an apology. Dance they did, and just like that the wall of ice fell away, and for the most part things returned to normal. Fjord spent his days managing shipping ledgers, his evenings chatting with other merchants and dancing with his friends, and his nights in Avantika’s bed. And he thought, at first, that all had been forgotten.

Then, six weeks after that night in the tavern, a messenger came to Fjord’s small office at the back of Ukatoa’s building on the docks. This was not unusual; messengers were in and out all day. But this boy ordered Fjord to make an immediate appearance at Uk’otoa’s estate in the upper city, and such a thing was entirely unusual for the middle of the workday.

Fjord locked up his ledgers and set off at once, arriving a bare hour after he first received the summons. A servant ushered him towards the main parlor off the front hall, the formal parlor, where business took place. Not that it surprised Fjord that this was a business matter, but there were always various members of all Uk’otoa’s enterprises scattered about the room, treating it as more of a salon. This was how they were kept appraised of the goings on in different aspects of the company. That meant that whatever this was, it was a public matter, or as public as Uk’otoa’s dealings got, anyway.

Indeed, looking to the side as he entered Fjord saw Marius, the young man who reported such goings on at the estate to the Avantika. Fjord nodded in greeting, but Marius looked away, his face pale, his hands twisting in nervous energy. Frowning, Fjord looked towards the front of the room. There sat Uk’otoa, in a large gilded wing-back chair that was not quite a throne. Beside him, flanked by guards, stood Avantika. Fjord’s frown deepened. Calling them both away from their stations in the middle of a workday was highly unusual. Something was wrong.

“Ah, Fjord. So lovely of you to join us.” Uk’otoa summoned him forward with a wave of his hand, and as Fjord walked towards him he could feel another pair of the guards coming up to flank him.

“Of course sir, your messenger said it was urgent.” Fjord allowed a bit of question to creep into his voice.

“Urgent. Yes indeed, you could say it is urgent. Betrayal always is, is it not?” Uk’otoa asked, voice dangerously calm.

“Sir? I don’t-” Fjord cut himself of as another wave of Uk’otoa’s hand silenced him. The man held up a book.

“Do you know what this is? Have you seen it before?” he asked. Fjord leaned forward slightly to inspect it.

“I know that Avantika has a journal that looks like that. But it was bought at the market, so I can’t say for certain it isn’t another book that looks the same.” Fjord’s mind was a flood of thoughts, and he struggled for the precision of response and language he knew Uk’otoa required. He did not look at Avantika at all, could not afford the distraction. What had she done? Was this all a mistake?

“You wouldn’t know if you looked inside? You haven’t seen what she writes in it? I would think any man would be hard pressed not to satisfy a lover’s curiosity.” Uk’otoa pressed. Now Fjord was on somewhat firmer ground.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’ve never read it. She said it was private, and I respect that.” He had no other choice but to respect it. He had looked over her shoulder once, months ago, in a rare bit of jest, and she had been… displeased. Fjord fought down the shudder that memory brought with it, how her hands had tightened on his throat as she rode him that night, how his vision had blacked out for a moment, how her whisper of ‘remember your place’ had rang in his ears as she brought herself off over him.

“Ah yes. Respect.” Uk’otoa drew out the word in a mocking tone as he turned away from Fjord and faced Avantika. Himself no longer under scrutiny, Fjord let his gaze follow. “And what can you tell me of respect, Avantika? The way I am spoken of in these pages? Do you find that respectful?” The tone took on more and more of an edge as he spoke.

Avantika gave a forced, nervous laugh. “Can not a woman assume privacy in her own mind, milord? Surely you are too sure in your position to take offense at such small jests.” She was trying to turn this on him, but a glance around the room revealed that it was not going to work. A few of the guards even growled when she spoke.

“Jests? And was it a jest yesterday evening, when you were followed to a meeting with the Plank King? Is it a jest that you would be speaking to our largest rival in the shipping business without my leave or knowledge? Please, share the joke, Avantika. I’m sure we would all love to hear it.” It would almost have been less intimidating if Uk’otoa sounded as angry as his words, if he had risen from his seat and gotten in her face. Instead he remained seated, absolutely sure of his power, not needing to make a show of it. Uk’otoa stared at Avantika, waiting to see if she would attempt an answer. When all she did was stare back at him in defiance, abruptly he turned back to Fjord.

“Congratulations, Fjord. It seems your loyalty and _respect_ ” and here Uk’otoa’s mouth twisted into a smirk, “have warranted a promotion. I don’t believe I need to explain to you the importance of continuing in these virtues, is that correct?”

“No sir.” Fjord said, not looking at Avantika, not looking anywhere but at Uk’otoa, and putting all his concentration into keeping his voice steady.

“Excellent. Run along then. Wouldn’t want to leave things unattended for too long, it appears there’s potential for matters to run amok.” And with this he turned back to Avantika, his cool countenance filling with a tight rage. Dismissed, Fjord left as quickly as he could, politely nodding his way out through the courtyard and then along the street for several blocks, before he turned into an alley and leaned against the cool wall, bile in his throat. He took deep breaths, trying to bring his racing thoughts under control, and had almost succeeded when a voice beside him set his heart pounding once more.

“Did it go alright?” Beau asked, leaning against the wall and failing dramatically at appearing casual.

“Did- what?” Fjord asked, too frazzled to try and form sentences.

“He knows you weren’t involved in her bullshit, right? Jess was super sure about that, she made sure to check.” Beau pressed.

“Jester? What?” Fjord was still at a loss.

Beau sighed. “The Brenattos and I talked, we wanted her away from you. Then Jester mentioned that her dad knows Uk’otoa, but he also knows some other people, and one of them had been talking to someone trying to double-deal. And it was her. Which worked out super well, actually, I thought this whole thing was going to be a lot harder, to be honest.”

“What whole thing?” Even though she had explained it, Fjord could not grasp things, today had simply been too much.

“Getting her away from you.” Beau said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“But- you barely know her. I don’t think Yeza or Jester have even met her!” Fjord protested.

“Why would that matter?” Beau asked, genuinely sounding curious. As Fjord sputtered, struggling to form an answer, she came forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. “She was hurting you, Fjord. You’re our friend, and she was hurting you. Why would we need another reason?”

And that was when it clicked for Fjord. He had been so stuck on the fact that Ukatoa was going to kill Avantika, that Ukatoa could have killed him just now, that he had not really thought about what any of it meant. _Avantika was never going to touch him again._

Fjord took several long, shuddering breaths.

“Would you mind walking back with me?” he asked at last, his voice breaking a bit at the end. He wasn’t going to cry, he _wasn’t_.

“Of course.” Beau said, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard her sound so gentle. Then her voice brightened. “And we’re going to Veth’s for dinner, she’s making a roast.”

“That sounds nice.” Fjord agreed, taking another few deep breaths before pulling away from the wall and leading them both out of the alley, into the bright afternoon sun.


	4. Smuggling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I finally got this finished! Also I feel a little bad, I know the first two chapters were super fluffy and then 3 went all dark. But here, have some more fluff before we get to the murders! I did mention the murders, right? It's there in the summary? ;)

The fight had decidedly not gone in Beau’s favor. She had started out doing quite well, really, but then another three guards had shown up, and it was all downhill from there. And what was a single shipment of wine doing having that many guards? This was not the first time that she had skimmed off of her father’s shipments, selling the illicit bottles to a smuggler contact of hers. It made her a decent bit of coin, but it was not even about the money, really. It was about finding yet another way to prove her father wrong. And up until tonight, it had been great at that.

Now though, arms held behind her and a bag over her head as she was pushed along a hall, she was forced to ask herself if it was really worth it.

The hall opened into a room, Beau could tell from the change in sound, and the light coming through the bag. A large room, with a lot of people in it, lots of sound, some smells of food. A tavern perhaps? Knowing that did not give Beau anything useful, but cataloging her surroundings kept her brain working, and if it was working, she was not panicking.

It seemed the guards had finally reached where they meant to bring her, and they then pushed her down onto her knees. While Beau was still struggling with the change of balance, a rough hand on her shoulder keeping her from pitching onto her face, the bag was removed from her head. Blinking against the suddenly bright light, she struggled to catalogue the space around her, but her eyes were soon drawn back to the man she had been led in front of.

Tall, dark haired, and wearing an impeccably tailored suit in royal blue, the man could have been any of the local lesser nobles, if it were not for the company he kept. Clearly he was in charge of this place, but ‘this place’ was more of a pub than a noble holding. Some of the folk around were dressed in similar finery, but others looked like street urchins, and still more could have been anyone in between.

“So. What exactly is it that makes you think you can steal from me, little girl? I’d say it was admirably brazen, if it weren’t also so very foolish and disrespectful.” The man spoke, sounding regal but also oily and insincere. The current of low laughter that ran through the others in the room made it clear she was being mocked for their benefit. Beau thought quickly. This was far deeper into the local crime scene then she had ever meant to go.

Beau tried to gather herself, come up with something to say that would apologize without sounding weak. She had to get out of here, and apologizing was the best way to do that, but if he saw weakness, she firmly believed this man would crush her. Just as she was about to speak, a high giggle sounded behind her, cutting through the room. It seemed so out of place here, and yet it was oddly familiar.

“Well it was _meant_ to be disrespectful, obviously. But not to you.” While Beau did not dare turn away from the man in front of her, it was easy enough to track Jester’s voice as she came closer through the crowd. Jester? What was she doing here? She had to get out, these people would eat her alive, she- “You’re so silly Beau.” Jester said, moving towards the central table and acting as though she did not have a care in the world. “I know you like messing with your dad, and who wouldn’t, he’s terrible. But you have to be more careful!”

This made no sense. Jester sounded like she was admonishing a slightly slow child, and did not seem at all scared of the situation she had found herself in. But the more Beau looked around the room, the more that seemed appropriate. None of the rough looking men how had prodded and jeered at Beau as she had been dragged in had so much as touched Jester as she had come forward. Quite the contrary, they parted respectfully, allowing the younger woman forward then filling back in in Jester’s wake, so that she was quickly at the center of the room.

Once she arrived, Jester kept her gaze on Beau, coming forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed briefly before turning to face the leader.

“It’s not like she got anything. I mean she’s good, you totally are Beau. We’re just better. Or at least I would expect us to be?” she swept her gaze briefly over the men who had brought Beau in, before looking back at the leader and cocking her head. Beau held her breath. Whatever this was, talking now was not going to do any good.

After a few long moments, the man laughed. “Yes alright. If you are taking her under your charge though, it’s your responsibility to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” He turned his gaze on Beau, eyes still piercing, but lacking the menace they had held before. “Consider this a warning, and be very grateful you’ve found friends in high places.”

Beau nodded frantically, still not trusting herself to speak. Jester let out another high giggle, though now that Beau’s own panic had abated slightly, she could recognize the fake edges to it, how this was Jester’s public laugh for parties, not the genuine joy she shared so freely around her friends.

“I’ll be sure she understands Baba, I promise. Thank you!” With that she looped her hand through Beau’s arm and, without even stopping to untie her wrists, began maneuvering the other woman up off the floor and then through the crowd and out the door. It was not until they reached an alleyway several buildings over that she finally stopped moving them both along. She let go of Beau’s arm and stepped away from her as Beau turned to face the other women.

Any expression besides happiness always looked a little strange on Jester’s face, but Beau did not think she had ever seen Jester look this sad and unsure. Usually she just blustered through any awkward situation, making things better through sheer force of personality. Now she stayed silent and worried her lip between her teeth, eyes darting from Beau’s face to the ground and back again. And that just would not do.

“Thank you Jess.” Beau said, calmly and carefully, ignoring the soreness in her wrists, the ache in her ankle where she had rolled it when being dragged along, the rain falling on them both. She kept all her focus on the woman before her, and was glad she did, because a moment after she spoke, as soon as Jester had processed it, her eyes widened in surprise.

“I- really? You’re not mad at me?” Jester said, eyes going wide and hopeful, and it was enough to break your heart.

“What? Of course not. You just saved me Jester, how could I be mad at you?” Beau replied, a little confused, but unwilling to say anything besides the absolute truth.

“Because I never told you about my dad? I never told anyone, I just let you all think I only came to those fancy parties because my mama is such a famous singer and everything. And that’s true! Only it’s not the whole truth, and if we’re friends I should tell the whole truth, only-” As Jester’s babble started to kick into high gear, Beau moved to hold up a hand, only to remember they were still bound behind her. “Oh, right, I’m sorry.” Jester pulled a small folding blade from her belt and moved behind Beau to cut the rope. As soon as her hands were free, Beau caught Jester’s in her own.

“If there’s one thing I understand, it’s that family is complicated, and you don’t always want to talk about it. That’s your choice. And I’m not going to say anything to the others. That’s your choice too. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think they’d care. We all love you Jess, and it’s because you’re you, not because of your mom, or your dad.” Beau held Jester’s gaze as the other woman looked searchingly at her for a minute. Then Jester threw her arms around Beau.

“Thank _you_ , Beau.” Jester said, leaning her head against Beau’s shoulder. As they parted, Jester looked at Beau with a crooked grin. “Now, if you still want to make some trouble for your dad, I’ve got some really great ideas…” She looped her arm through Beau’s, and the two went off into the gathering evening.


End file.
